


And When He Wakes

by cat_77



Series: Flufftober 2018 [13]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Good Parent Maryse Lightwood, M/M, Protective Magnus Bane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 12:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16284458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: Awake or dreaming, he would always be there for him as needed.  Whether he knew he needed him or not.





	And When He Wakes

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt of “dream.”
> 
> * * *

He was dreaming again. It was not wholly unexpected given that he was laid out and sound asleep. It was, however, unusual in that he was passed out on the couch, having not even made it to the bed.

Soon enough, the little murmurs started. Barely there, easily disguised as uneven breaths. The increased heart rate and the way his lips formed the roughest of shapes told otherwise. 

This one was important then.

Magnus knelt at the side of the couch and let soothing fingers slide through tangled strands of dark hair. “Shh,” he whispered. “All will be well.”

“Clary... left side. Jace, you’re leaving an opening...” A toss of his head to the side, enough so that Magnus was surprised he didn’t wake himself. “Four more from behind. Matriarch is still...” The words made precisely no sense. For now. In a few hours, maybe a day’s time, everything would all become clear.

“You were victorious?” Magnus assumed when the mutters began to fade.

“Izzy’s arm... bit... need to get the venom out...”

The knowledge of a matriarchal clan that attacked in at least pairs with venomous bites helped narrow down what type of demon they would be dealing with and allowed Magnus to mentally sort out what kind of supplies he would need to have on hand. He was debating if he should just begin the preparation of the tincture now when a voice cut into his thoughts.

“So you know then?” Maryse asked. He had nearly forgotten that she was still there. She too had dozed in a chair after dinner, but stood now, tense, ready for nearly anything. Gone was some of the warmth from their earlier conversations. It was replaced by worry, and a tinge of fear. He did not doubt that she could attack, weapon or no, runes or no, if she felt the action was required.

“That your son dreams of his next battles before they happen? Yes, for some time now,” he admitted easily enough. It would be hard not to with as often as the two of them shared a bed. Alexander may be quiet, but Magnus was not about to sleep through his lover’s episodes. He was never fully in duress, but there was an almost energy to the action that was hard to ignore.

“He never remembers them, not fully,” Maryse told him. She slowly sat down on the cushion of one of the armchairs, poised, ready. “If anything, I think he believes it to be his own innate talent, a sixth sense if you will, when the actual fight comes around. He knows where the enemy will be and is far better able to stop them than anyone else.”

Magnus sat back on his heels, unwilling to leave the slumbering man’s side just yet. Often the same dream played from different angles, additional data was given to be processed. “Has he ever been wrong?” he questioned.

“Not once,” Maryse replied promptly. She bit her lip for a moment, the closest to a sign of weakness he had ever seen from her. “You’ve listened. That much is clear. Have you ever... This intel could change the tide of the battle. Have you ever used it...”

“To know when he might need backup on a supposedly routine patrol? To make certain I have the ingredients for the next cure he will need for himself or those he cares about?” he supplied.

She blew out a breath. “I know it’s foolish. I know how much you say you love him. But this is a vulnerability that could so easily be exploited.”

“You’re his mother; you worry,” he told her, and earned the smallest of smiles for his efforts. “But you must know that I would never want to see any harm come to Alexander. I know that nearly nothing can compete with his ridiculous sense of duty and that I will not be able to hold him back should he think someone or something he deems under his protection is in danger. So I simply try to make sure he is as prepared as possible for what lies ahead.”

“Suggest an extra team?” Maryse guessed.

“Or be there myself,” he admitted, which was the truth more often than not. “Stash an extra blade away, tuck a few extra arrows into his quiver - and no, sadly that is not a euphemism.”

He earned another grin, this one a little wider. “You look after my boy,” she said, and he knew it wasn’t a question or even a request.

“Always,” he agreed readily enough. There was something he had wondered for a while now though and, as he doubted Alexander even knew of his own dreams in the first place, what better source to ask than the one who used to watch over him? “These abilities, they are rare even for a Shadowhunter. Do they run in the family?”

She paused, swallowed, and he knew the weight of the answer when she said, “Yes.”

“Isabelle?” he guessed.

She shook her head. “My daughter can sense signatures like no other. Heat, energy, things I barely understand. I think that’s why she took to the whip: she liked the patterns it left in its wake. She takes after her father that way. Alec...”

“Takes after his mother?” Magnus guessed.

“Robert figured it out,” she nodded. “Well, with me. Alec is so much quieter that I don’t think he knows. I swear the Clave used to knock me out a day before a big battle just to try to get a sliver of intel to give us the upper hand.”

He didn’t doubt it. He also didn’t want that for Alec. “I would never...”

“I know that now,” she insisted.

“I tell him he snores,” he admitted. “He’s woken up and caught me a little too close as I try to calm him. It’s become almost a joke, though he doesn’t believe me.”

“Oh, he does that too,” she supplied readily enough. “Over tired, or the rare times he takes ill. You’ll need that spare bedroom of yours if you’re going to get any sleep.”

Now it was his turn to smile. She stood, cautiously, and he knew she was going to make an excuse and leave, so he stopped her. “Stay?” he asked. At her look of disbelief, not that he fully believed he was asking either, he reasoned, “Watch over him so I can start the tincture they will need after the battle?”

“I...” she hesitated. He snapped his fingers and a chair nearly identical to the one she had just sat upon materialized next to the couch, just within reach of a certain tousled head. She huffed a breath but the corner of her lips remained upturned, so he was fairly certain what she was going to decide. “I’ll see if I can piece together anymore details,” she agreed.

He moved to his workroom, door open to keep an ear and an eye out for anything strange. What he found was Maryse whispering the same lullaby that he often heard Alexander himself hum under his breath, as well as her say things about himself that he never thought Maryse Lightwood would dare to think let alone put voice to. 

And when, an hour or so later, their sleeping seer awoke, she very calmly declared, “He’s right, you know. You do snore.”


End file.
